


White Clothes and Bloody Hands (The Tower)

by Julietwasanidiot



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Oh, References to Canon, Suicide, Violence, a little ereri if you squint hard enough, pretty much everyone makes a cameo appearance, so many of those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julietwasanidiot/pseuds/Julietwasanidiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tower is a monster of dull cement and rusted steel, home to people molded to live in its bloody shadow and to fight each other for supremacy.<br/>Jean Kirschtein is one of those people. His body is a killing machine and he's so lucid and rational he almost hates himself for it, because his actions speak of pure calculation, promise him damnation and they're apparently his best shot at survival.<br/>Hating such a life is not enough, because fourteen years in the Tower can coerce anyone into settling for it. Leaving is not an option either. If there's one thing the Tower takes special care in doing is breaking the sanity of those who live under its shade, bringing to light their most feral instincts.<br/>But there's this one kid: he doesn't care about survival or the difference between good and evil like others do. He doesn't stop fighting the Tower's law, just for the option to choose how to live his life. A kid with big brown eyes, dark freckles and white clothes smeared with blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Clothes and Bloody Hands (The Tower)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :) this is Julietwasanidiot and I really wanna thank you for having clicked on this piece just because you were curious. Shoutout to you, you've just become my precious baby.  
> I'm so excited to share this one-shot with you, since this is my first "published" fanfic and English is not even my first language (so excuse any grammatical horrors and feel free to point them out to me, given the fact I'm posting this piece on this site to improve my English too).  
> The concept comes from a really weird dream I had about five nights ago and, since I usually don't dream or at the very least I don't remember to, I thought I could give it a shot. Sadly, my subconscious was pretty topsy-turvy that night, so see what that got you: a one-shot with blood and gore, mental illness and suicide (blame Schopenhauer for that). Treat carefully, reader.  
> I'm open to criticism and feedback (I'd really really really love to hear from you, it would make my day) both here on AO3 in the comments box or on my tumblr www.aboutlevi.tumblr.com . My askbox is open like a broken egg, irreparably so.  
> So, Chiara will now stop jabbering to leave you to your reading, finally.  
> Just three more things: I'm so sorry, I love you and I share your pain.

_I cannot stop this sickness taking over_

_It takes control and drags me into nowhere_

_I need your help, I can't fight this forever_

_I know you're watching,_

_I can feel you out there_

_[...]_

_Save me if I become_

_My demons_

_\- My Demons, Starset_

 

 

* * *

 

The Tower wasn't an easy place to live in. But no place was easy to live in those days. It was an just accommodation as any.

Wind blew through the steel pillars stretching towards the ashen sky, chilling him to the bone despite the enormous reddish sun setting behind the grey skyline of the wrecked metropolis at his feet.

The wind blew again, whistling loudly through the twisted rafters half eaten away by the rust. It almost made him recoil. It almost made him remember how similar the screams of the blast were to those of his family.

Nothing hindered his eyes from surveying the sunset from up there. Nothing ever dared to grow to that height. The Tower itself was a warning not to, with its wrecked walls and the debris covering its floors, submerging whatever chunks of cement had survived the fury of the storm.

Despite the cries the wind made passing through the lone and naked pillars supporting the entire structure all the way down to the ground, Jean felt safe with his feet planted on the reinforced concrete.

The wind didn't scare him.

The chill didn't scare him.

Life at the Tower's feet, life in the city, _that_ scared him.

He was never going to get back there. He was never leaving the relative safety of the Tower, no matter how awful his existence was living in its shade. 

The breeze bit at his fingers and naked forearms, crawling all the way up his back under his red and battered leather jacket. Jean shivered, but his eyes didn't stray from the horizon. People told him that once upon a time the sun hadn't been that enormous. No bigger than a thumb, up in the sky. And that it used to be yellow. And warm.

Jean didn't take it. A warm sun should have been made for warm worlds and, sure as hell, his wasn't.

He stared at the reddish circle they called a star, burning away with its sick light the edges of the frayed buildings covering the horizon. He stood there, frozen to the bone and unwavering until it disappeared behind the sorry wreckage of what once should have been humankind's pride, the Ministry of Development.

It was gone now. Only a ghastly shell remained, planted upright in the ground like a chipped sword pointing to the offending sky with its tip.

Jean tore his eyes away from the fuzzy skyline of the city and let his eyes adjust to the gloom that had descended on the world before setting to leave the top floor.

Nobody ever came all this way up the Tower. Nobody ever stood there, on the highest peak on earth. Doing it would have meant challenging the sky to unleash hell. Again. 

Jean didn't want to defy the sky. He just liked the sight. He stepped away from the edge of the building and pulled down the sleeves of his jacket. The time for risking a flu was gone.

It wasn't time yet but he had to move. The climb would be long. He sidestepped the clusterfuck of debris that still lingered on the hard and grey concrete and grabbed from the inner pocket of his jacket his leather gloves reinforced with rubber on the fingers. He put them on, testing their flexibility on his hands, then let his legs dangle from a hole in the concrete. The way he came on the top floor.

He looked all the way down through the one-hundred and twenty-two stories forming the Tower. The only way to come up – and to get down – was a single and heavy chain fixated in the cement at the ground floor and hung over his head by a bent steel pulley. The links had some sort of roughly inclined rostrum protruding from their side, wide enough for Jean to use them as a ladder. He grasped one and steered himself for what was coming next. He tested his grip, then he moved his other hand to the chain and stood there, sitting on the solid concrete with no handhold.

Jean took a deep breath and pulled himself away from the safety of the cement pavement, in order to come down seventy floors dangling from a rusted chain.

 

* * *

 

 

He already did that. So many times he didn't even care to remember how or when it'd started, but his arms burned and screamed anyway throughout the entire exertion. He'd passed at least forty stories already, but he wasn't arrived yet.

Jean lost himself in the lonely and monotonous job of descending the chain links, like there was nothing but the iron under his hurting fingers and the cold wind all around him - the piercing screams it tore out of the pillars snaking between them.

Nothing else. He could close his eyes and keep on descending, finding his grip on every chain link he passed. He would have done it if the Tower hadn't been such a dangerous place.

There were other things that made the Tower a difficult accommodation: yes, there were the winds that could sweep you off of your feet and throw you out of the building, if they blew hard enough, hurling you in Death's spread arms. Yes, there were the pillars, so weakened by the rust that it was just a matter of time until they couldn't hold the Tower's weight anymore. Yes, there were no walls in the Tower but for small portions spared by the wrath of the apocalypse.

And there were thugs. Everywhere. Life in the Tower was the same as life in the jungle. Surviving was just a matter of joining the right pack of stray dogs.

Jean landed on floor thirty-nine right when three guys approached him. People had to join packs to survive, right? That's what he did.

"There you are, Kirschtein. – the one in the middle sneered – Thought you had died up there. That would have been a nice change of scenery."

Jean merely flipped him off. Eren Jaeger wasn't worth the air wasted saying his name. His eyes flew from him to the blondie next to him, whom he acknowledged with a nod. On Eren's other side was Mikasa, strong, determined, beautiful. Straight black hair, grey eyes the size of dinner plates. And they weren't looking at him.

"Are you ready?" Armin, the blond at Eren's other side, asked, eyeing him trying to imagine how long Jean had been dangling from the chain.

Jean rolled his shoulders. "Born ready."

Eren snorted and swatted away a lock of his dark hair away from his eyes.

"Let's go then." Mikasa interjected. Her gaze focused on Jean for half a second, then moved away again, surveying their surroundings. Out of the four, she was probably the one with the highest chances at surviving in the Tower, if it wasn't for her tendency to recklessly attempt suicide coming to her brother's rescue in every fight, brother being the shitstain Eren was. 

She moved away from them towards another chain hanging from the ceiling and descending again. She jumped at the cable and swung on it for a while, then she started going down without waiting for them. Eren followed her right away, and Jean winced. His arms hurt like hell. But he _had_ to climb those more floors. Refusing to go down would mean getting kicked out of the pack, and he couldn't afford it. Nobody was going to take him in then. No one in the Tower wanted a rookie that couldn't follow orders.

"Did you go to the top floor again?" Armin asked, putting his rubber gloves on. He had rolled the sleeves of his dirty shirt up his elbows, revealing forearms unexpectedly toned for a boy his build. But to Jean, it was unsurprising. The Tower shaped the body, bending it at its needs and its ways.

Jean shrugged, kicking at some debris at his feet. Armin would always ask that. Jean believed it was his dream, getting up there and maybe see the sky blue like his old dusty books told. He never came though. It was hard even for Jean hiking up there, Armin wouldn't make it. He could climb in two days what Jean did in nine hours. But there was no sleeping in the Tower unless you were with your pack, and not even then.

"How was the sky?" he continued.                           

Jean knew Armin wanted to hear it was blue, cloudless and unthreatening. But what he saw every time he got up there was just the same smoky, reddish gloom the sun spread.

"Shit like always. – he answered, no emotion tainting his voice – What's up with the job today?"

Armin sighed. "Erwin plans to break the Military's legs for good. That's what we're doing."

Jean hummed in assessment, starting to climb down the chain, Armin after him.

"Did you find that guy?"

"Marco? – Armin glanced at him from behind his shoulder – He's probably dead. He can't survive on his own in the Tower, you know it. Anyway, we didn't find him."

"Have you searched throughout Tower?"

"Eren, Mikasa and I got to hunt him from floors 2 to 25. Sasha, Connie and Annie had to go from 25 to 54 and Bertholdt, Reiner and Ymir searched from 55 to 70. Nobody is gone higher since there aren't any walls or places to hide and sleep without the wind driving you crazy with its screams. But you went anyway, did you see anyone?"

Jean didn't. He thought he would have caught sight of the gentle boy that had picked him up from the feet of the Tower to introduce him in the Legion, his pack. He never got to thank him for having saved his life.

"No. Nobody searched for him down on the ground floor?" Jean asked, landing on the concrete of the twenty-sixth floor.

Armin followed him on the solid pavement and levelled him with a stare. "You go up to 122th floor but you don't dare to go under the second. How do you expect any of us doing it?"

Jean motioned towards Mikasa and Eren several strides ahead of them, urging Armin to pick up his pace.

"Anyway, if he really is down there, he's dead _for sure_. The train station is Titans' territory. Off limits. Not even the Legion, Garrison and the Military together can hold against them."

Jean nodded. He knew the Titans. They were… They were the feet of the Tower he was scared of.

He'd seen. He'd remembered.

"You there?" Eren called from behind a grey wall, one of those lonely chunks of concrete that remained from older times. 

"Yeah, Jaeger. – Jean snarled – Stop pointing out the obvious, for fuck's sake." He rounded the wall and found Mikasa shouldering a thick vest she fastened on her sides, then she threw on her own grimy green army jacket.

"Put on the vest. – Armin advised at his side – The Military has really nice and brand new harnesses. But not many, luckily."

Jean nodded, took one of the vests and put it on in the chilling air of the evening.

"What kind of harnesses?"

Jaeger winced. "The shooting kind."

"But these are bulletproof vests. – Mikasa cut in – You should be fine, Eren." Trust her not to care for anyone but that douchebag.

"Just try not to be shot in the shoulder. – Jean added dressing his jacket again – I'm not coming back to save your ass this time."

Eren side-kicked him in the shin. " _Levi_ came to help me, you moron."

Jean hissed, but just out of reflexes instead of real pain. Jaeger was as thick as a fucking boulder, but he knew Erwin and Levi would chew him out if he harmed a Legion's member before a mission. "Who do you think told Levi where the fuck to find you?"

"Shut up, the both of you." Mikasa snapped, checking her weapons. She strapped a knife on her thigh and two swords to the sides of her hips.

"I'm done." Armin said sticking a knife in his boot. He didn't need anything else. He would stay behind the lines, acting as a backup and a strategist. He would be Erwin's successor, in case he died.

"Just wait a moment…" Eren murmured fastening two blades on his back, similar to Mikasa's, so that each  hilt stuck out between his broad shoulders and his neck.

Jean folded his arms on his chest, leaning absentmindedly against the wall.

"You don't take anything?" Armin asked Jean as Eren finished adjusting his black long-sleeved shirt so that the baldrics of his swords did not tuck it up.

He shrugged. "I have all I need. My hands will do. Besides, I intend to snatch one of those firearms as soon as I see one."

"Do not go blind then." Eren snorted.                                     

"Here it is. You lost another chance to keep your mouth shut." Jean retorted and pushed away from the wall, following Mikasa that had started leading the way towards another chain dangling from the upper stories.

"This is where we start?" Eren asked, eyeing down the chain.

"Yes, twelve feet to the pavement – Armin answered – When you're done clearing that floor, you go down and you should find Connie, Sasha and Annie. Then down again, where you'll meet Ymir, Bertl and Reiner. When you're all together, Bert and Sasha will carry the eventual wounded to Hanji, who's waiting on floor 23 with Erwin and Levi. Then you go down to 22th and attack whoever's left of Military. You'll have Levi's squad to help you cleaning up."

"Long story short: go down each floor, kill everyone, gather people on the way, wipe the Military away from the face of the earth." Jean translated.

Armin shot him a glare that he shrugged off.

"Then you're free till the next mission. Go do what you wanna do." Armin added.

Mikasa nodded and patted his shoulder. "Ok. We'll go now."

He smiled softly and watched in silence as Mikasa checked one last time her weapons and grasped the chain.

Eren grinned at him. "See you later, Armin." Then he took off after his sister.

Jean nodded at him and performed a smile. It felt strange somehow. He wondered when was the last time he did it.

Armin's eyes sparkled and Jean jumped straight through the hole in the cement, not bothering with the chain.

 

* * *

 

 

When he touched the ground, hell had already been unleashed. People were screaming and there were grunts and sounds of scraping metal filling the stale air of the Tower.

Jean rolled on the pavement away from the chain and jumped on his feet. His hand flew to his inner pocket and he had his folding knife ready when the first scumbag attacked him.

He dodged the first swipe and feinted left, then he swept the man's leg away from under him. He collapsed to the ground and Jean followed him crouching on one knee. He sliced the man's throat without so much as a thought. Blood sprouted from the wound and Jean jumped away.

Death didn't disturb him. Killing didn't either. The Tower was a jungle. People lived, people died. Sometimes people died at other people's hands.

Jean dashed towards a dude who was trying to hit Mikasa's side while she was holding off two others. He lashed at his thigh with the knife, then socked him square in the jaw when he arched his back, his eyes wide with surprise and pain. Jean spared him a kick to the head too, just to be sure.

Free of her unfair opponent, Mikasa sliced through both her adversaries in quick succession, bathing the night in blood.

"You alright?" Jean asked.

She didn't answer and proceeded to slay another Military's at his other side. He guessed Mikasa was just fine.

Eren, a few paces away from them, slammed his rival to the ground and crushed his skull against the cement, his swords lying forgotten next to him.

He was ready to take off when Mikasa screamed.

"Eren!"

Jean's head whipped in the bastard's direction so hard it hurt. A man ready to struck had risen behind Jaeger, still crouched on his victim. The guy's dagger, held high on his head, glinted in a light the sky didn't provide, then stumbled backwards with a gurgle. He fell to the ground and trashed a bit, then stayed silent.

"Fuck, Jean – Mikasa whispered, scowling at her thigh – You broke my holster."

He walked away to retrieve her bowie knife from the corpse's chest. "Thank you, Jean – he mimicked – Thank you for having saved my little brother's fat ass."

"Shut your fucking mouth, Kirschtein." Eren growled rising from his crouch.

Jean snorted and strode away from the siblings, his folding knife ready in one hand and Mikasa's in the other.

Another man from Military charged him from his left and Jean kicked him in the stomach before he was even close. The guy stumbled, but regained his footing as quickly as he'd lost it.

"Scumbag." he hissed through his bared teeth.

Jean lashed at him with his knife but he jumped out of the way. Bared teeth. Like those of an animal. The Tower did these kinds of things to people. Jean couldn't see his face because the man had his back to the moonlight filtering from the missing external wall. All he could see of him was just the outline of mop of deep black hair arranged in a ridiculous bowlcut. The guy struck at him and Jean blocked him with his forearm, then slashed at his exposed stomach, but the bloke rolled away again, approaching the edge of the floor.

"You keep on runnin', dontcha?" Jean growled slamming his elbow in the face of another Military dog sneaking on his back.

The guy charged again but Jean hesitated for a second and a second was enough for the Military to slam his knee in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Jean gasped, bent over and managed to avoid only partially the elbow hit aimed at the small of his back. He got it on his left shoulder blade and winced in pain, retreating a few steps away from his aggressor. He'd lost both his weapons during the fight and he couldn't find them in the gloomy night.

"Legion my ass. – the man snarled, pulling something out from his waistband – Shitbags." He pointed the thing at Jean and it made a metallic noise.

It felt like time had extended. Jean knew he had to react quickly if he wanted to survive. He couldn't count on Eren or on Mikasa, since she only came in _Eren's_ rescue.

He dashed forward and grabbed the gun, pointing it to the ground. The dude grumbled and tried to free the weapon from Jean's grip, only managing to shot it once on the hard concrete between their feet. Jean hooked his leg around the man's and slammed his elbow against his throat.

The guy lost his balance and fell, leaving the gun in Jean's hands. He didn't spare time: he fired once and it was over. Blood and grey matter squirted on his clothes and boots.

"Animal." he muttered, kicking the body down the edge of the Tower. Just to be sure. That guy had been a bitch to kill.

"Thank you, by the way. I wanted one of these." He left to gather with Mikasa and Eren.

The two of them had littered the floor with other seven bodies – more like _Mikasa_ did –  and Jean took down the last one with his newly-acquired shotgun. He checked the ammo and raised his eyebrows. Thirteen bullets.

"Are we done?" Eren asked, wiping his hands from blood in his pants.

"I can't see anyone else. – Mikasa said glancing around – This floor is a bitch to hold. No chunks of walls. No pillars big enough to hide a body. I think we're the only living creatures on the 25th."

"Good. This means we're done here. Everybody fine?"

Jean grunted. His shoulder hurt where that mongrel had hit him with his elbow and he suspected his stomach was already starting to bruise..

Mikasa nodded but still her eyes kept on darting all around them.

Eren wandered off to the next hole in the concrete and perched himself on its edge. "Hey, how is it going down there?" he asked the darkness as Jean went to retrieve his folding knife and Mikasa's, which returned immediately.

"Eren!" Sasha squeaked after a second. A scream pierced the air.

"Wait a sec, man." came Connie's voice.

"Okay." Eren hummed a tune to himself, killing time.

" _For God's sake,_ Annie – Connie screeched after a moment – How many liters of blood you made him puke?"

Then there was silence.

"I'm going." Jean said passing Eren and grasping the chain. He descended quickly and as soon as he landed, he came face to face to a bitch of Military. He shot her between the eyes. She fell to the ground and Jean climbed over her corpse to approach Sasha, who was sitting on the floor with her black bow and quiver next to her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She beamed at him. "Yes! Are you?"

He nodded.

"Wow, man – Connie cut in – Where the fuck did you find _that_?"

Jean glanced at the gun in his hand. "A guy had it. I thought it could be useful."

"You guessed just right, Jean!"

A short and scary girl appeared next to him and Jean needed to steel himself not to retch. She was completely covered in blood. And by covered, he meant something like _drenched_. Hadn't he already known, he wouldn't have called her hair blond. People told her baggy sweater had been light blue once and that her tight black pants hadn't been completely ripped.

"How many of them did you find?"

"Eleven. – Mikasa said landing on floor 24 – You?"

"Thirteen." Sasha answered.

"Have you searched the place for survivors?" Eren asked, still hanging from the chain.

"There aren't." Annie shrugged and drips of blood fell from her hair.

"How many people are there in Military?" Jean asked.

Eren folded his arms on his chest. "Sixty, more or less."

"So it's twenty-four down." Connie declared.

Annie tucked her hair behind her ear leaving a blood red trail along her cheek. "You heard of Bertl and Reiner?"

"They've been done for a few minutes now." Sasha said standing up and starting to retrieve her arrows. They made a squelching sound when she tore them out of their bodies.

"Green light?" Connie inquired in the pitch blackness of floor 23.

"Come. – Bertholdt's voice whispered – But stay alert. Ymir's gone all berserk."

"Fuck – Eren grunted – Why the hell did Erwin put her on duty if she's not fucking over Christa's death yet?"

Jean smacked the back of his head. "Because she's one of our best fighters and it would have been her or Armin. Do your maths, twat."

Eren hissed and raised a bandaged fist to punch him, but Jean just jumped in the hole and avoided his hit.

This time he landed in a crouch and grimaced. It hadn't been painless as he had planned. He stood up with a creak from his knees and glanced around.

Bertholdt and Reiner stood back to back and were scanning the floor, their weapons still drawn and dripping blood on the cement.

"Ymir?" Bertl called gently.

Nobody answered for a while, and Mikasa, Eren, Annie, Sasha and Connie joined them in their ring formation.

"'m here." came the quiet answer and Ymir appeared from behind a pillar.

Jean had to squint to distinguish her from the darkness that surrounded her. Tall and lean, she wore just black shorts and a sleeveless leather jacket covering a dark green top with knee-high boots with laces, long earrings made of the Tower's spikes and a braided necklace she crafted herself with copper wires and little chain-links. But her most horrifying accessory was the severed head hanging from her hand, still dripping blood on the floor like the twenty-inches dagger dangling from the other.

Ymir tilted her head on her shoulder. "Why y'all lookin' at me like that."

"Ymir – Sasha said, a pained expression on her young face – Drop the head. And the knife."

Her eyes moved slowly to the head macabre trophy, like she had forgotten she had it in the first place.

"He murdered Christa." Her voice wavered, like she was on the edge of crying and wiped her cheek with the hand holding her knife. Jean didn't like that blade so close to her eyes.

"He murdered her too – she added, pointing with her weapon to another man at her feet – And that one too." Her dagger was now indicating to a corpse the other side of the space.

"Ymir. – Sasha called – Drop. The knife."

"But he murdered her – Ymir muttered, her voice thin and fragile, and her eyes unfocused on the slaughter she'd done – Alongside him. And her. They murdered her. They're all guilty."

"Ymir, you killed her assassin right after Christa died. – Connie cut in – You already had your revenge."

Ymir's eyes shot into focus again. "I didn't – she growled – _I didn't_."

Jean stood his ground, his stare pinned on her movements. On her pain. The Tower. That was what the Tower did to you.

Ymir stopped and her breathing quickened. "Have y'all murdered her too? – she screeched – Y'all murdered her. Ye did, didn't ye?" She took a step forward and the head in her hand dropped to the ground.

" _No_! No, Ymir, no! – Sasha interjected, her voice wavering with tears – C'mon now, come to your senses! We didn't kill Christa, Ymir! Please, it's us, we're your friends, please, drop the knife…"

She shrugged her off, keeping to spit her venom. "Y'all did. Murderers. Murderers. _Murderers_."

"Ymir. Stay put. – Mikasa said – Stay put." Probably she wanted her voice to sound somewhere between calm and commanding, but all that Jean heard was her tension. Mikasa was scared. She wouldn't act lucidly. And if Mikasa didn't, nobody would.

Ymir let out a crazy laugh and wobbled towards them for other few paces. When she stopped, all hilarity had disappeared from her eyes. "Ye murdered her." she whispered. She switched her grip on the blade - now firm in her hand and deadly, because she knew how to use it at best and didn't have her judgement to tell her when to stop anymore.

 Ymir charged, bellowing her rage and her loss.

Jean aimed for just a second.

He fired.

Ymir collapsed, a red flower blossoming on her top over her heart.

" _Why did you do that_?" Sasha screamed, slamming against him. She shoved him again and again, and Jean let her.

" _Why did you do that? Why did you? Why didn't you let me talk with her, why, why, WHY?_ " She kept yelling at him and Jean couldn't bring himself to look in her eyes swelling with tears.

"Sasha, Sasha, c'mon. – Connie encircled her shoulders with his arms and slowly pulled her away from him – C'mon now."

The girl glowered at Jean with so much hatred it nearly hurt him. Nearly.

"Lame animals must be slaughtered." he muttered.

Eren grunted beside him and Mikasa hid her nose in the red scarf wrapped around her neck.

"She was not an animal!" Sasha yelled from where Connie had got her to sit down.

Jean winced. He knew it. No one of them was an animal. But the Tower felt more like an enormous sacrificial altar waiting for their blood so - in a way - they all were.

"You could have aimed at her legs." Reiner pointed out behind him, sheathing his dagger.

Jean turned around and stared up in his ginger eyes. "When a person is broken, is broken forever. – he stated harshly – This is what the Tower does to you. It takes your sanity and wraps it all around this… this _tiny_ little thing that is what you love the most in this world. Then it makes it bounce. And when the Tower throws your little wrapped ball too hard on the floor and the thing inside it breaks or _dies_ , your sanity shatters with it. And there's no coming back. There's no painkiller, there's no _healing_."

"And you? – Reiner asked challengingly – What's of your sanity?"

Jean smiled crookedly at him. "It's long gone, Reiner. – he chuckled – I'm probably the most insane among all of you."

 

* * *

 

 

When Annie landed on floor 22, Levi turned up his nose in disgust.

"Stop looking at me that way, midget, I brought you guns." she said pulling out two of the Military's firearms out of her baggy sweater.

Levi's eyes sparkled in anger and the girl dropped one of the guns in his awaiting hands.

"Thank you, Annie." Erwin Smith said when handed the other himself. He looked at it for a second and checked the ammo. He raised his chief-y eyebrows and holstered the gun in the waistband of his camo pants.

"Were there problems?" Mikasa asked sweeping the place with a glance. Corpses littered the floor and big pools of blood were widening under them.

Levi bared his teeth at her. "Whatcha say?"

"Levi took care of everything already – Erwin translated, rolling his blue eyes – Thank you, Mikasa. What about you?"

Eren shrugged and Erwin's eyebrows knit. "Where's Ymir?"

Nobody answered. The Tower's law: if you weren't the one to fuck up, you didn't have to deliver the news either.

"I shot her. – Jean responded, managing to keep a calm tone even though he felt everyone's eyes boring holes in his skull – She went nuts and charged us."

Erwin stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Jean steeled himself for what was coming, whatever it was. Levi scoffed and Jean spared a second to glare at him, but with his bloody cheek the dwarf appeared much scarier.

"What a shame. – Erwin finally sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose – She was a great fighter. Do you have wounded to take to Hanji? They're waiting away from the fight, down there, since she was in no shape to battle today."

"Eren has a slash on his side." Mikasa replied, earning a betrayed look from her brother.

"What the _fuck_ , Mikasa!?" he howled, but she dismissed him with a motion of her hand.

"Can you fight?" Levi asked.

Eren sneered at him. "Bet your ass I can."

The midget's face darkened but his grey eyes flickered with amusement. "This is a bet I'm willing to place."

"Oh, _for God's sake_." Connie bleated as Eren smirked.

"We should head down again, before the Military has time to reorganize its forces." Mikasa declared. She looked a shade paler than before, but it could have been a trick of the light.

"How many people were on this floor?" Bertl asked.

"Fifteen." Erwin replied.

"This makes thirty-nine down. More or less twenty others to go." Connie added.

Erwin's mouth curled. "Good. This went better than I expected."

"Can we go now? – Mikasa called from the chain – I hear commotion down there."

Erwin nodded and Jean followed the girl on the 21th floor.

 

Jean ducked behind a pillar and the sword struck at his right the rusted column at eye level, showering him in sparks. He dived left and sliced open his opponent's throat from behind with his folding knife. He'd lost the gun when the guy had nearly kicked him out of the Tower to plummet into the cruel greyness of the world at its feet.

Blood gushed all over the front of the man's shirt and his hand, sticky and boiling. He leapt away from the corpse and stabbed another Military in his side. He grunted and swiped at him with a scary-looking spoon that could have easily pop his eye out. It looked like it already did its job more than once.

Jean blocked with his forearm and switched the grip on his folding knife, then stuck it all to the handle in the guy's stomach.

The mongrel's knees buckled and Jean tore his blade from his body to continue his hunt.

Somewhere at his right, Levi jumped on a bloke's back and sunk his swords in his trapezius, steering him away from one of Levi's squad, Erd Jean thought was his name.

He ran for the back of the room, where stood only Bertl and a fine-looking girl with auburn hair who fought like the devil itself. He remembered he'd seen her sometimes with Levi, but he never felt the need to talk to her.

On his left, Eren pushed away the armed arm of his opponent, and Jean took advantage of it by snatching the man's blade from his hand. He threw it towards a fucker on Bertholdt's side that fell with the dagger buried in his sternum.

Just another few paces and he slammed a guy with his shoulder, sending him to roll close to the edge of the Tower. Jean snaked his arm around another bloke's neck at his left and twisted it brutally. The bone cracked with a nauseating sound, but Jean was far over that by now. He let the body fall at his feet and kicked his first victim out of the Tower hitting his chest.

The girl with auburn hair suddenly appeared at his side and smirked. "Fucker. That wasn't fair."

They both ducked under the arm of another Military and the girl seized his ankle with hers. He fell to the ground and the girl crouched on his chest, strangling him with her bare hands.

"He had to die, right? – Jean retorted, waiting for her to be done – He died."

She turned up her nose, sitting on the dead man's chest. "I just wish we didn't need to kill each other like animals."

You didn't want to slay people? That was your problem. The Tower _required_ blood washing her floors. It drained it like ambrosia. "It's you or them,…" Jean trailed off, unsure if calling her simply 'girl' would be acceptable.

"Petra." the girl said coming to stand on her feet.

He nodded and whispered a 'Jean', glancing at the battle all around them. Bertl was taking over his two opponents and Reiner was coming to help anyway. Mikasa was steadily wiping out the Military from the face of the earth with Levi at her side, who was leaving a faint trace of blood from his left leg, the flank the girl covered.

Sasha was running all over the place shooting and retrieving her arrows with methodical precision, sometimes just sinking barehanded their tips in those who assaulted her. Her naked arms were covered in little red scraps and the hair that fell on her eyes was damp with sweat.

Jean heard a choking sound and turned on his side, just to take in a wide-eyed Petra, looking down at the point of a spear protruding from her breast.

Jean let out a croaking noise and watched, paralyzed, as she fell to the ground, the spear still embedded in her chest. Soon a pool of blood started to widen under her body, plastering her hair to the concrete. She still had her warm brown eyes wide open on darkness.

Jean raised slowly his gaze to the bewildered man retreating slowly, his hands held in front of him.

Jean's heart thudded like a drum and suddenly all he could hear was his blood roaring in his ears, twined with the strangled noise Petra made while exhaling her last breath and the gunshot that took Ymir down, her obsessive _murder, murder, murder_.

It didn't made sense. _He murdered her. Murder. Murdered her._ He'd said he was the least sane in the group before, but he hadn't really believed it. Annie had drained her victims' blood with her spiked fists and Hanji commented their opponents' perks before killing them.

But now. Now, he knew.

He screamed wordlessly as he lunged for the fucker, something he didn't do in _years_ of missions like that. The guy avoided the blow and tried for a run.

Jean bolted for him and lashed out at his knees, tackling him to the ground. He wrestled the assassin under him and socked his jaw so hard his hand exploded in pain and his vision shimmered with yellow and red stars.

" _You murdered her!_ – he cried in his face, punching him again, his other hand curled in the man's shirt front – _You murdered her!_ "

The guy tried a hit with his own fist, but Jean batted him away with his elbow.

"With a spear! – he yelled, unleashing his pain, his anger, his frustrations, his _fears_ on the guy's face – With a spear! In the back! Unfair, it was _unfair!_ "

The guy had stopped moving, his face a mess of white shards and blood. Jean's knuckles were encrusted with that.

He stormed on his feet and strode to Petra's corpse. His vision went blurry for a few seconds and Jean realized he was on the verge of breaking down in tears. He drove away the moisture from his eyes and stopped beside Petra's body. Her clothes were already drenched with blood. Jean pulled the spear out of her and the sucking sound it made nearly had him bent on his knees puking his soul. She slid out of the spear with a bit of resistance and that drove him even madder.

He stomped again to her killer and shouted in his face only 'cause he felt like it. "You murdered her! With a _spear in her back!_ " He heard people calling his name, but he ignored them, then snapped in half the shaft on his knee. Splinters flew everywhere.

Jean switched his grip on the half with the tip and stuck both of them in the guy's chest so hard his hands went numb. He didn't remember screaming 'coward', but that was what the echo in the Tower returned his ears.

He raised his eyes to the others. They were keeping their distance.

"Jean." Mikasa called and he met her eyes. Levi was standing next to her, his eyes darting between Petra's corpse and the rods jutting out of the guy's trunk at Jean's feet.

"Jean – Connie added, somewhat pleadingly – Jean, I don't want to see another of my friends killed today."

And it dawned to him. His eyes shot to Sasha. She stood there, her footing wide and steady, her bow drawn and the arrow notched, aiming at him.

"I'm done – he croaked, wobbling a bit on his feet, and let go the halves of the spear right where they were embedded – I'm done."

Sasha narrowed her eyes and her jaw twitched. For a moment Jean thought she would release the arrow.

Then she lowered her bow. "Is it the end of it?" she asked, her voice strained beyond the humanly possible.

Erwin nodded. "Yes – he said, his tone seeping in their chests and making them reverberate – Yes, it is."

Mikasa huffed and sat right where she was, holding her head in her hands. Eren appeared from who knows where and sat back to back with her, relaxing his head on her shoulders, his wrists on his knees.

Bertholdt, Annie and Reiner went to the chain and climbed up, disappearing from the view, while Sasha and Connie rested with their backs against a pillar, sharing listlessly a potato that Jean wondered where they even found.

Erwin was bandaging quickly the wound on Levi's leg with his own shirtsleeve, while the other was staring into nothing somewhere at his left. The blond man raised his eyes to meet Jean's and mouthed a 'Levi's squad is dead'. He shook his head, then got back to dressing the injury that was slowly drenching in red the whitish wrappings.

Jean took it all in. Here they were. The Tower kids. He was so tired of all that. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep.

But his job was not done yet.

"Where are you going?" Eren asked when he passed him to go to the chain.

Jean glanced at him from behind his shoulder. "I've got shit to do."

Eren grunted in reply and Jean picked his rubber gloves from his inner pocket and put them on. He took a little run-up and grasped the chain.

Then he went down.

 

* * *

 

 

It'd been fourteen years.

Fourteen years since he'd been so down in the Tower. Since he'd been to the ground floor. He tried not to be overcome from his memories, but it was hard. The place _smelled_ like them.

The ground floor was the widest in the Tower, and the most dangerous. As Titans' zone, those who came down there before him didn't come back. People of the upper stories stopped asking why.

And ironically the ground floor was a train station, a place frequented by normal people of the city, alien and unaware of the tragedies that took place just few stories over their heads.

Jean walked the station platform close to the wall, every sense alert. Yes, that was a train station. But the Titans had made this place their zone for a reason: so that they could have full access to every trail and line in and out of the city, and coerced the stationmasters to pay their weight in gold for the use of their rails.

Jean jumped half a fucking mile when the speakers above his head blared their announcement.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, the regional train 55724 coming from Shinganshina and directed to Stohess will pass the track 5 at 2:18AM. Please, stand clear of the yellow line._ "

"Fuck." Jean muttered. He pulled down the sleeves of his scarlet jacket and hid his bloody hands inside. He'd tried to wipe them on his black t-shirt and pants, but it only served to paint them red a bit more evenly. For his face and hair, there was nothing he could do. He just hoped that no-one would speak or went at it to him after having seen how much blood he was covered in.

He glanced at the timepiece hanging above his head. It marked 1:22AM and under the clock hanged the scraped sign 'track 1'. Jean scanned the place and the very few people waiting for their trains. Nobody seemed particularly dangerous. It was weird. Jean remembered the Titans being nothing less than terrifying.

Luckily, the platforms were easy to examine. He just had to walk up and down them browsing the awaiting people's faces.

And after ten minutes of searching, Jean could say that Marco Bodt wasn't on the platforms for the tracks 1 or 2.

He peeked around, then bolted on the rails and jumped on the platform for the tracks 3 and 4. Some people threw curious glances in his direction and Jean tensed, expecting someone of the Titans to come tearing him a new asshole.

Nobody came. But still, Jean couldn't shake the feeling that there was something odd in that. Was it really that one the place that haunted his nights and his stays at the top floor? A place of distracted, innocuous people?

Then Jean saw it.

The color of death and pain, what he expected to see there on the ground floor.

Red, splashed on white clothes on the other platform, the one for the track 5.

Jean dashed through the rails without thinking and hoisted himself up cursing against his stupidity. What if the train had passed in that moment and invested him? He cleared his head by shaking it and a soft laugh made his guts knot. Jean stood there, on the empty platform, and his eyes shot to the boy dressed in white slumped against the wall perching on his elbow. He was watching him with something approaching amusement in his gaze.

"Here he is – he chuckled, spreading his arms – the best angel of death I could ask for." 

Jean stood transfixed for a moment, then approached the boy and slid slowly against the wall to sit next to him.

"'m not here to kill you, Marco." he said.

The boy glanced at him. "No? – his eyebrows raised – Good. What are you doing here with the runaway, then?"

Jean watched absently the tracks in front of him. "Why don't you tell me what _you're_ doing here first?"

Marco smiled. "Isn't it clear enough? I'm waiting for the train." He dug in the pocket of his white sweater smeared with blood up to his neck and pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes.

Jean observed in silence.

"Want one? – Marco asked, holding the least bent for him to take – I'm sure I can corrupt you a little more than I already did. What were you saying about coming here not to kill me?"

Jean shrugged and took the smoke and held it for Marco to light, then took a long drag. He expired slowly and closed his eyes, finally relaxing against the grey cement of the wall behind his back.

"I never got to say thank you."

Marco laughed. "And I never got to say I'm sorry."

Jean furrowed his brow and glanced at Marco that had slumped against his hipbone. "For what?"

All mirth disappeared from the boy's eyes and he took a silent draw. "For having dragged you here in the Tower."

"You saved my life."

Marco scoffed and looked away. "I _destroyed_ it." There was so much hatred and anger in his voice it made Jean's gut recoil.

"Hey – he called, waiting for him to look him in the eyes again – You saved my life. I would have died right in that corner if you didn't." He motioned with his head towards the crook in the wall that had been his shelter for four days after… what happened.

"I had to leave that refuge twelve to thirty times a day – Jean continued – Whenever I saw scary-looking people as much as _glance_ in my direction. The first time, I didn't move. They almost beat me to death. By the second I learned the lesson." Jean shivered. He'd told nobody about his days before the Tower. He didn't even let himself _think_ about them.

Marco hummed and expired a cloud of smoke.

"But then you came. – a smile crossed Jean's lips – And you wouldn't leave, you bastard. I had fled as soon as I had seen you approaching and stayed hidden waiting for you to go away."

"Seven hours and a half was a long time." Marco whispered.

"How do you know it was that much? – Jean asked, surprised – It's blurred in my memory, but I knew it was a lengthy wait."

"Seven provincial trains that stopped here and eight regionals that didn't. – Marco replied – and since the provincials pass every hour and the regionals between them, it was seven hours and a half. Approximately. Why did you come back anyhow, even if I was still there?"

Jean shrugged. "I was starving." He'd thought he'd go for the truth for once.

Marco laughed.

"And you weren't really that scary-looking. – Jean added – Maybe it was the freckles. And the dimples."

"Stop poking them. My face is only mine to poke. – Marco wrinkled his noise, batting away his hand – They would have sent Armin if it wasn't for his build. Or Mikasa, but she would have scared you shitless. Eren wasn't even an option."

"I know I would have hated his guts even if he saved my life in your place."

Marco chuckled and some ash fell on his cheek. Jean swept it away absently.

"Why are you so comfortable with me, Jean? – Marco asked – We never even spoke to each other aside from my 'wanna live? Come with me, Imma show you how miserable your life can get' speech."

He half-smiled. "Why don't _you_ tell me?"

"I know why, I don't need to hear myself responding a question I already know the answer to. – Marco retorted – So why, Jean?"

He inhaled silently, thinking. "Maybe because you come from the same Hell I do and you don't pretend this life is bearable."

"And now you thank me for having introduced you to the life in the Tower. – Marco resumed after a moment – You really need to sort yourself out, Jean." He smiled at him from where his head was resting on Jean's hipbone.

Jean chuckled. "It's the best life we can have. We don't really have a choice."

Marco looked away, flicking his smoke. "Who did you kill today?"

Jean shuddered realizing that at some point in the conversation he had pulled up the sleeves of his jacket to his elbows, uncovering his hands. They were still so red. All that blood…

"Hey – Marco called – We're the same. I'm like you." He showed his own hands, rosy like they had been scrubbed with force but with crimson crescents under his broken fingernails.

 Jean stayed silent for a second, staring at them. "Too many people." he breathed out.

Marco wiggled his nose. "That’s… diplomatic."

"Erwin wanted to destroy the Military. Blood has been shed from both our packs."

"Mm?"

Jean sighed. "I know Levi's squad has been wiped out-"

"One breath for Erd Jinn – Marco interjected closing his eyes – One breath for Gunther Schultz. One breath for Auruo Bossard. One breath for Petra Ral."

Jean winced at those names. He hadn't known any of them, but for Petra's who had told him seconds before dying. And _Petra_. He felt so shaken and horrified by her death. And by what came next.

"If we don't remember and honor them, nobody will know they ever existed, right? – Marco added – So, were you saying?"

"Petra died next to me. – Jean found himself saying – A… a spear in her _back_. She had chided me just seconds before because I had thrown a guy down the Tower and she thought _that_ was unfair."

Marco's face darkened. "I hope you made her killer pay in blood."

Jean gulped and took a shaky drag of his cigarette. "I-I did."

They stayed silent for a while, breathing each other's smoke.

"But there's more, right?" Marco asked quietly eyeing him, sparing Jean his pity.

Jean had to close his eyes to answer. "Ymir."

"One breath for Ymir… - Marco stopped – Ymir Lenz because, even if there's no wedding in the Tower, she and Christa lived and loved like they were married to each other."

Jean's gut did a somersault. And another. A lump closed his throat and threatened to throttle him. "I-I had… I had to shoot her." The admission left him relieved and terrified at the same time. It made everything real. It made Sasha's hatred and pain concrete, his guilt crushing. But now he wasn't lying to himself.

Marco stayed silent for a long time, so long that Jean thought he wouldn't speak at all.

"She wasn't alright, was she?"

"No. – Jean shook his head – Christa's death left her… unbalanced. She was seeing her murderers everywhere. In us. So I had to take her down."

Marco shook his head. "Ymir was a ticking bomb. Christa was too sweet to survive in the Tower and Ymir loved her too much. Probably they were the best people in the Legion since they succeeded in finding something good in this shithole of a life. She's somewhere better now, with Christa. Heaven knows if we don't all deserve a more decent place."

"You don't hate me?"

Marco scoffed. "I'm too much alike you to watch you with anything more than sympathy in my eyes. – he said – You're not the only one to have murdered his friends."

Jean stood still at the admission. "Mm?"

Marco nodded. "You know Bertholdt, Reiner and Annie? There was a fourth one. Marcel, that was his name. Nice boy, dark hair cropped short like Connie's and brown irises. He was alright. He liked to laugh." His warm eyes lost their focus, watching somewhere in his past.

"What happened?" Jean asked quietly.

"He started passing information about us to the Titans. I was sent to… to dispatch him."

Jean hesitated. "Was it hard?"

Marco exhaled slowly. "I had to close my eyes. – he whispered – And I cried and screamed so much afterwards."

Jean forced his closed throat. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"N-no – Jean breathed – I'm sorry for having asked."

Marco shrugged and met his eyes. "If I hadn't wanted to tell you, I wouldn't have. One breath for Marcel, by the way."

Jean relaxed his head against the wall. "Why 'one breath'?"

Marco shrugged in his lap. "They say the most important thing we have is our life. And to live, you have to keep breathing. I'm from Jinae and they have a belief there according to which, after you die, your soul has to collect breaths from the living in order to have an always-improving afterlife. And when you reach the highest amount of breaths, you get reincarnated in another body, to help the world like you did in your previous life, since you got that many. So… one breath."

Jean kept quiet.

"I know, it's stupid."

"N-no – he shook his head – Not at all. It's deep, man. I like this way of thinking. It's a crutch for people who are pining a loss."

This time it was Marco to stay silent.

"So – Jean resumed – I assassinated half the population of the Tower, but who have _you_ killed today?"

Marco half-smiled. "You slew half the stray dogs, I murdered the other half. No Titans milling around today, uh?"

Jean stared at him in awe. "You did it?"

The boy shrugged and took a drag from his smoke. "I thought I could do something better than killing my friends with this war machine the Tower has made of me."

"All of them?" Jean was dumbstruck. Marco didn't know. He didn't know he had avenged Jean's family.

"The alphas of the pack, that's for sure. And everyone I could track down. – he glanced down at his sweater – This is what's left of Rod Reiss, by the way." he added pinching the cloth to let Jean see.

Rod Reiss. He… he remembered him. From the day Jean had become an orphan. His throat closed and he curled his fist against his thigh. "No 'one breath for Rod Reiss' thing?"

Marco frowned at him. "He killed your family and left you staggering among their corpses, I'm not so insensitive to wish him a good afterlife in front of you. Besides, he was a real asshole and he's the least worthy of breaths of all. One is enough and I already gave it to him while I was gutting him. He can go fuck himself now."

Jean's lower lip trembled and he willed it to stop. But it wouldn't. "T-Thanks."

Marco scowled. "Thank me for something really worthy of thanking me."

"You actually think you've done bad introducing me to the Legion?"

Marco reflected for a while. "Yes – he decided – Yes, I do. I didn't give you a choice."

Jean scoffed. "We don't have a choice, I told you. – he said, taking a drag – Besides, even if you did, I wouldn't have turned down the offer."

"That would have been an entirely different matter, if you chose this existence of your own accord. – Marco replied – And you're wrong. There's always a choice."

"Really? What could it be? This life and what? Death?" Jean wanted to laugh.

The speakers above his head startled him again when they blasted their message. " _Ladies and gentlemen, the regional train 55724 coming from Shinganshina and directed to Stohess will pass the track 5 at 2:18AM. Please, stand clear of the yellow line._ "

Marco glanced at the nearest clock and put out his smoke by pressing it against the concrete. "Well. This my train." he declared standing up and scooping his white coat, flipping it over his shoulder.

Jean's eyebrows knit. "But…"

"Jean – Marco cut him off – Jean. My friend. I'll call you friend even if I'm not such to you. Will you stop me if I tell you I've made my choice?"

Jean's heart skipped a beat. "Marco, you choice is _suicide_."

He smiled and his face radiated peace. "Yes, it is. But it's something I've chosen on my own."

"W-Wait, why? – Jean tried to control the waver of his voice, but it was _just too much all at once_ – Why now?"

"Have you even paid attention? – Marco asked but without reprimand – I don't want to live like this. Fuck, this is not living and I can't even call it 'surviving', because 'surviving' means that there's something urging you to inhale and exhale every time. I don't feel it, Jean. I don't feel it anymore."

Jean could only stare back in horror.

"Why now, you ask me. – he shrugged, glancing towards the rails – Because it has become too much. And all I could give you I already gave it. I dispatched the Titans, I helped setting the Tower a little straighter. But this place brings so much despair, Jean. Don't tell me you didn't see it. – he stopped, his eyes staring in the distance – I just can't stand cohabiting with my wrongs anymore. I don't want this blood on my hands. I never did. I can't cope with the others' grieves too. I tried to be strong for them, Jean, I really did. But the more you're strong, the more it hurts when you snap."

Jean choked back a sob. "Y-You're not b-broken, Marco…"

He smiled a sad smile, so melancholic that Jean wanted to close his eyes and forget to have ever seen it. "No, I'm not. You could say I'm ramrod straight, had I been a stick. I'm not broken, because being broken would mean bowing to the Tower's will, and that's not what I'm doing. I'm fighting, Jean. I'm fighting so hard I'm willing to die for it."

Jean took a shaky breath and rose on his feet. "I-I'm not stopping you, Marco. – he breathed – If that's w-what you want, I w-won't stop you."

Marco smiled.

"B-But first – Jean held a finger in the hair between them – l-let me call you 'my friend' too. And I really _really_ want to hug you right now."

Marco laughed and wrapped his arms around him, enveloping him in his warmth.

Jean pulled him tighter muttered an 'I'm not made of porcelain, you know' and Marco chuckled, effectively crushing him against his chest. Jean didn't mind. He doubted he'd ever mind anything Marco did. Except dying maybe.

And there, with his nose pressed against the side of Marcos' neck, his eyes shut tight and fistfuls of his sweater in his curled hands, Jean let two tears escape his control as he felt Marco's fingers grazing the shorter hair on the back of his head. Two tears and no more. Marco wouldn't want him to cry.

"Oh my god – Marco laughed after a moment – I'm so sorry for messing with your head like this: first I drag you in the Tower, then I tell you I'm sorry for it and proceed to die before your eyes. That's sick."

"Shut up 'bout that. – Jean grumbled – 'm not going away, so don't even ask. I'm not leaving you alone now."

Marco's warm breath tickled his ear when he sighed. "Thank you, Jean. – he whispered, freeing himself from his embrace – Thank you for not letting me think I'm alone in this."

Jean reluctantly let him go and his eyes flew to the whistling train approaching the station that had just appeared around a building.

"Are you scared?" he asked.

Marco shook his head and smiled. "Not anymore." He stepped away and flipped again his jacket against his back.

The train whistled again at the entrance of the station and Jean could only stare at his only friend walking towards his death.

Marco stopped short after a moment and rummaged quickly in the pocket of his sweater. He pulled out the cigs pack and threw it at Jean, beaming like the sun itself.

Jean caught it in mid-air and raised his eyes just in time to see Marco leaping off the platform on the rails.

His chest constricted. "One breath for Marco Bodt."

 

* * *

 

 

Jean watched the sun ride in his arc with his legs dangling from the edge of the top floor of the Tower and a smoke popped between his lips.

The same sick shade of red gloom of every other day, but today it felt different. He couldn't exactly pinpoint how. It still felt wrong, but somehow it didn't bothered him as much as it used to. Maybe because after that night, few things would ever bother him anymore. He finished the cigarette and extinguished it on the concrete, then got up and strode to the bag he had brought up there with him.

He fumbled inside it until, rummaging with his fingers gone numb for climbing nearly ten hours in a row, he found out what was looking for.

He stared at the spray paint in his hand. He'd stolen it from Armin but he doubted the boy would have ever used it anyway. Besides, this was more important. He got up and watched the space he'd previously cleared from the debris and whatever the winds couldn't sweep away.

He popped another smoke between his lips, rolled his sleeves to his elbows, pressed his finger on the spout of the can. Jean started to paint.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn't meant for anyone to see. It would have been a secret between him and the sky. A secret.

The sun dried the red paint almost instantly, branding it on the grey concrete for ages to come. At least, that he hoped.

Jean watched his work glinting against the smothering greyness all around it and the dye seemed to stare back at him, proud and sturdy, promising him the eternity.

He'd wore the Wings of Freedom for years inside his elbow, tattooed on the soft skin of its crook, but he never understood their meaning. It had taken Marco for Jean to grasp it.

The symbol of his pride, of his being human even inside the Tower, of his _fight_ was branded on his skin and he didn't even notice. All Marco had said, every word he'd spoken and every time he said he was still fighting, they were all printed black on his pale skin, and they had been for years now.

He grazed the tattoo on his arm and for a moment he felt close to Marco. He wanted to tell him 'I understood, Marco, I understood, isn't that great?', he wanted to tell him so so much.

But Marco was gone now, fighting his battle against whoever and whatever wanted him nothing more than a feral beast driven just by its primal needs, against the life the Tower had chosen for him.

But he wasn't gone forever. He still had a foot in this world, right beside the symbol he'd died for. And so did all the others.

 

_Rod Reiss_

_Auruo Bossard_

_Erd Jinn_

_Gunther Schultz_

_Petra Ral_

_Christa Lenz_

_Ymir Lenz_

_Marco Bodt_

_One breath for each of them_

_And they won't be forgotten._

 

He couldn't retrieve the names of everyone that had lived in the Tower until that night, but that would have done. He would leave to Armin, Eren and Mikasa to adjourn the list.

Jean stared at the red names embedded on the concrete and the last one, still drying in the sun and the wind that was whipping at his back. He rose his gaze to the sky and closed his eyes, waiting for the last smoke of Marco's pack to die in his mouth.

"So it's a secret, right? – he told the sky when it did – A secret between me and you."

Nobody answered but the wind ruffled his hair, still matted in a bloody mess atop of his head, and his open jacket.

"But someone in the future will have to know, you know. – he continued, relishing the feeling of warmth on his tired face – You have to get back to be blue like Armin's books claim. Otherwise no one will ever come up here and remember them. Remember _us_. But this is a secret. This is made for the future generations' eyes, not for the present one. It's a secret."

Jean opened his eyes and watched the grey skyline of the city. "But I tell you one thing – he added – Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead."

Jean leapt over the edge of the Tower's top floor, leaving the print of his boot on the fresh paint of his own name embedded on the concrete right under Marco's.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for having stayed with me 'til the end, I love you.  
> Now, if you want to do some critics or point out mistakes or just have a nice talk, come finding me either in the comment box down here on AO3 or on my tumblr aboutlevi.tumblr.com . You'd make me squeal in delight if you did.  
> I hope to hear from you and in the meanwhile... until next time, mate!


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